


Nothing To Lose

by SansPellegrino



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Skinny!Steve, first time writing a little prompt fic yay!, if it's a disaster we'll never speak of it again, let's just see how this goes for now, obviously not canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansPellegrino/pseuds/SansPellegrino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from a prompt from tumblr, because <a href="http://turningstevie.tumblr.com">brandon</a> asked me to and because he's great and he deserves it</p><p>Steve Rogers manages to flood the laundry room at college, and a very nice (very attractive) guy with dark hair turns up to witness it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing To Lose

Steve Rogers didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed in his entire life, and that was really saying something.

As he was standing hopelessly in his underwear at 3am in the large puddle he'd created in the laundry room, clutching his clothes close to his chest, he had some time to reflect on just how right his mother had been when she'd told him that he wouldn't be able to survive university. Christ, it was only the fourth week and he'd already managed to walk straight into the glass door of his lecture hall _twice,_  and now he'd gone and left the door of the washing machine open by accident in his rush to do some urgent midnight laundry, only to come back half an hour later to the entire tiny room being at least an inch underwater.

And now to make things even worse, there was a beautiful- _beautiful_ \- man standing in the doorway, staring in mild horror at Steve, who was very much in his underwear and very much eager to explain the situation.

But, before he could even get a word in edgeways, the beautiful guy with his dark hair pulled back into a messy bun had raised an eyebrow and beaten him to it, in a sarcastic tone of voice nonetheless:

"Having a bit of laundry trouble?"

Steve shot him a glare, shifting the clothes in his hands slightly to cover himself better because _he was practically naked and this guy was gorgeous and Steve was honestly tiny compared to him._ "You could say that."

"That's pretty inconvenient. I really need to do this laundry."

"Nothing's stopping you," Steve pointed out.

The man pointed at his feet. "Socks."

Steve just rolled his eyes. "That's really unfortunate, pal, sorry about that."

Mr Beautiful didn't respond; instead, he peered further into the laundry room, taking in the full extent of the damage that Steve had inadvertently caused. "This is a bit of a mess, huh? What did you do?"

"Forgot to shut the door properly," Steve muttered, feeling his cheeks flush. "The machine just kept going."

"And you're in your underwear because...?"

"I have no clean clothes."

"Aaand you're washing them at 3 in the morning..."

"I have a complex schedule; are you just gonna stand there and be judgemental about my life choices?"

The guy shrugged. "I was just curious." He placed his own bundle of laundry on the floor just outside the flooded room and began taking off his socks.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, "What are you doing?"

"Well I'm not exactly gonna leave you here to clean this all up yourself, am I?"

"I don't need help," Steve argued, but the guy had already stepped through the threshold and was making his way over to where the huge towel rack was.

"Those aren't ours, we can't use them," Steve said weakly, but it was too late, because his new acquaintance had already placed several on the ground, where they were beginning to soak up the water. After a moment or two Steve realised that honestly, a few damp towels were better than an underwater laundry room, so he abandoned his clothes on the top of a dryer and followed the other guy's lead in strategically placing towels on the floor.

"Your name is Steve, right? Steve Rogers?" Man-bun-guy was saying conversationally as he leaned against one of the washing machines.

"How do you know my name?" Steve asked warily, frowning at him. People knowing who he was generally tended to be a bad thing- he was small and kind of scrawny and he wasn't stupid, he knew people talked.

"You know Natasha Romanoff? She's my roommate, I think I've seen you guys together."

"Oh," Steve said. That would actually make sense. Natasha was a redheaded firecracker in his art history class who he'd gone to grab lunch with several times. He was sure she'd mentioned a roommate... "You must be... James, then, yeah?"

The guy outstretched a hand, giving him a friendly smile, and Steve was once again struck by just how _attractive_ this guy was. "Call me Bucky. Bucky Barnes."

Steve took his hand and shook it, "Nice to meet you. Even if the circumstances are a little..." He gestured to the room around them.

Bucky laughed, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing Steve with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Oh please, this is by far the most interesting meet cute I could've asked for."

Steve found himself flushing scarlet; was this guy flirting with him? Embarrassing as it seemed Steve wasn't really sure- it wasn't like people flirted with him on a regular basis. But he'd seen it in movies and stuff, and he was at least 70% sure that had been flirting. However, movies hadn't taught him how to _respond_ , so he just hurried to pick up another towel and continue mopping up the water.

"So what brings _you_ down to the basement at 3 in the morning?"

Bucky crinkled his nose, and Steve found it endearing. "Natasha has company. I wasn't sleeping anyway, so I figured now's as good a time to do laundry as ever."

"Fair enough," Steve conceded, quickly averting his gaze as he met Bucky's eyes and the other man gave him a charming smile.

"What's _your_ excuse? You snarked at me last time I asked."

"Because it's none of your business," Steve huffed, reaching for another towel. He sure as hell wasn't about to admit that the only reason he was down here was because he'd spilled orange juice all over his clean clothes pile the evening before.

Bucky dragged himself upright and leaned over Steve's head to take a towel off the rack, and Steve couldn't help but hold his breath as Bucky's body (and really, it was a beautiful one) brushed past his own (which, Steve realised in a wave of humiliation, was still mostly unclothed).

He swore under his breath, snatching up one of the shirts he'd been clutching when Bucky had first walked in and pulling it over his head. It was dirty, he supposed, but not terribly so and it wasn't covered in juice so he supposed it would have to do.

When he looked back over at Bucky again he noticed that he seemed to be frowning slightly.

"What?" Steve asked, crossing his arms self-consciously over his chest.

"You put clothes on," Bucky pointed out, gesturing to him. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because I wasn't wearing any?"

Bucky made a muffled noise of discontentment, turning back around to continue mopping up the water.

Steve felt the tips of his ears go pink.

The next fifteen minutes went by in almost complete silence, with the pair of them working separately in an attempt to be more efficient at getting rid of the water. And to Steve's genuine surprise, they actually managed it- by the time they were done the floor was only slightly damp, and Bucky turned to face Steve with a grin.

"See? You wouldn't even be half done if it wasn't for me."

Steve tried to glare at him, he really did, but found that it was impossible. The only thing that was happening was a slight pout. "I'd be at least three quarters done, actually."

"I don't think so."

"Want me to reflood the room and we can test it?"

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "That's so dumb, Stevie."

 _Stevie? He called me Stevie. And look at his_ arms _\- Oh my god, I think I actually like this guy._ Steve wasn't sure what to do with this information. So he did the sensible thing and gathered up the rest of his clothes in his arms, clearing his throat. "So, um. I'm pretty tired and I think I can squeeze in time to get this all done in the morning..."

Bucky's face seemed to fall. "Oh right," he said quickly, "Um, of course. Yeah. I'll... See you 'round, then."

Steve gave him an awkward half wave. "See ya," he repeated meekly, before quite literally fleeing the scene and leaving Natasha Romanoff's beautiful roommate alone in the laundry room in the basement of their building.

The next day, he woke up to two texts- which was unusual in itself, because Steve only had like three friends and he lived with two of them. The text wasn't from either Sam or Clint, or Tony from next door, so he unlocked his phone with apprehension only to discover that the first text was from Natasha- who, somehow, had acquired his phone number. Not that he was really very surprised, there was something sinister about that girl that he hadn't yet managed to pin down.

 _Hey Rogers_ , the text read, _it's Natasha from art history. My fucking dork of a roommate won't stop asking me about 'the adorable blond kid I met downstairs who looked at me like he wanted to fight me'. It's infuriating so I gave him your number to shut him up. Sorry. x_

Steve's throat went dry; okay, Bucky, who was probably the single most attractive person Steve had ever laid eyes on, had asked Natasha about him and she had given him his number- fuck. Bucky had his number. There was a second text.

He quickly exited out of Natasha's message and clicked on the only other unread one- from a second unknown number.

_hi steve, this might be weird but i was wondering if you wanted to maybe get a coffee or something some time? with me? in like a date way? idk. or not. it's whatever. oh this is bucky by the way, we met last night when you attempted adulting and failed miserably_

Steve's mouth fell open, and he quickly closed it again. Coffee. In a date way. With a guy who looked like he could quite possibly be a model. _And_ he texted like a nerd, and it was actually adorable. When the hell did this become Steve's life?

He tapped out a response quickly;

_I remember. I'm not doing anything tomorrow afternoon?_

The reply he got was almost immediate.

_great! wow i'm surprised nat even gave me the right number. meet you at the starbucks on campus at 3?_

Steve smiled to himself- and, in the heat of the moment, completely forgot that he had never actually been on a date before and he had no idea what he was doing. Instead he just quickly sent a reply and busied himself with getting dressed; he had a class this morning, after all. And he had a _lot_ to tell Sam over breakfast.

Two floors up, Bucky Barnes received a text that made him so excited he almost punched the wall with his phone by mistake as he whipped around to show Natasha.

_Well you've already seen me effectively naked so it's not like I've got much to lose._

 


End file.
